


Strip

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Anal, Incest, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 11:39:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13880082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After Hanzo warns him of the threat to his life, Genji flees Hanamura and begins working as a stripper in New York. When Hanzo comes to find his little brother, things get complicated.





	Strip

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Azaleeshwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azaleeshwrites/gifts).



> This was a commission for Azaleesh. If you're interested in commissioning me, you can contact me on my Tumblr, which is @aisling-writes. Thanks for reading!

Their faces are blank to Genji; they always are. When he’s working, there’s only one person he thinks of. 

Hanzo. His brother. 

The music blares, some pop song he’s heard a thousand times, and Genji grinds his hips against the man he’d pulled up to the stage. He pulls off his shirt, revealing his muscles to the large crowd, who cheer and throw money at his feet. Genji sits the faceless man down onto a chair and places himself on his lap, pressing their bodies close together while he dances. 

Genji imagines the man’s plain features transforming into a striking resemblance of his older brother. In Genji’s mind the man’s short brown hair is long, black, and tied into a ponytail; his unmarked flesh becomes tattooed with the patterns Genji had once traced with his fingers. With this image completed in Genji’s head he can fully immerse himself in his performance; he begins to lose control as if it really is his brother sitting on the chair beneath him. 

The crowd is enraptured, their breath is bated and they too lose themselves in Genji’s performance, not being able to look away as the green-haired stripper on stage stands up and starts to undo the zipper of his trousers. 

_ What would he think, if he could see me? _

Genji performs six nights a week at the club, and every single time, he does it for his brother. For Hanzo, the man he loves, but will never see again. 

The man in the chair, not-Hanzo, touches Genji’s chest as he dances. Genji’s mind, as it always does, flashes back to that night. That night in Hanamura, that he has never spoken about, and never will. 

He wants his brothers hands on his skin again. Wants to feel their lips pressed together again; that burning pleasure, the feeling of it being so wrong yet so right at once. Nobody else has ever even come close to making Genji feel like Hanzo had that night, not any of the men he’s slept with since arriving in New York. He longs for the feeling of his older brother’s long black hair brushing against his chest as the man thrust into him that night, for the feeling of Hanzo inside of him, that delightfully painful sensation that left him gasping for more. No matter how hard he tries, nobody satisfies him like his brother had. 

The crowd of people wolf whistle as Genji reduces himself to the bare minimum of clothing: he’s twisting and dancing gracefully to the beat of the music. He’s the snake charmer and his audience are pythons hungry for more. 

After his performance Genji goes to the back room and puts back on his shirt and trousers. His boss slaps him on the back. 

“Good job out there Genji,” she says, twisting her long hair up into a ponytail. “They couldn’t keep their eyes off you.” 

Genji smiles as he does up the last button on his black shirt. “Thanks, boss.”

“Keep at it. Oh, and also, a man was looking for you.”

“Really?” A bolt of electricity pierces his heart; his chest tightens. 

“He’s waiting by the bar. Go see him.” 

Genji doesn’t have to be told twice; he’s heading straight to the bar, his eyes searching for that familiar face of his brother. 

Once again he’s disappointed. It’s not Hanzo, it’s just the man Genji had pulled up on stage. He closes his eyes and pinches his brow. 

“Hey,” The man says seductively. “When does your shift end?” 

Genji shrugs. He’s defeated, sweaty and tired. “When I say it does, I guess.”

“Perfect. How ‘bout it ends right now? We can go back to my place.” 

Genji opens his mouth to refuse, but then he realises the potential pleasure that imagining him as Hanzo might bring, and accepts. “Let’s go, then.”

***

At night, the pain of missing him becomes almost too much to bear. He dreams of Hanzo being beside him once again. The creaking of his door slowly opening plays again and again in his mind, as if it’s really happening, and Hanzo’s really there, illuminated by the pale glow of the light shining dimly through the crack in the door. Most nights (or rather, late mornings, due to his work), Genji wakes up sweaty, sitting bolt upright in his bed, Hanzo’s name on his lips. 

These dreams are a blessing and a curse. One one hand, Genji gets to relive some of the time he had shared with his brother back when he lived in Japan. But on the other hand, the pain of waking up next to a stranger instead of Hanzo is sometimes more than he can stand. It’s bittersweet, and Genji hates it. A lot of the time, on his nights off (which are few and far between) he’ll sit on his couch alone seething with rage at his circumstances and the fact he can’t do a thing to change them. 

They had grown up together in Hanamura. Genji’s fondest memories were with Hanzo when they were younger, before their father beat them into becoming heartless Yakuza thugs. Hanzo had grown up faster than Genji; he’d had to. Their father was merciless, and Hanzo, though he had pretended not to be, was afraid of him. When Hanzo turned 13, Genji hardly saw him anymore. Genji had rebelled, and from then on, he caused havoc. He refused most things his father asked of him, resulting in beatings and being humiliated in front of the whole clan. He hadn’t known why he was so angry that Hanzo had been taken away from him, at the time. All he had known was that he missed Hanzo more than anything, and he was furious. It wasn’t until he was seventeen that he’d realised that he was, in fact, in love with his brother. The revelation tormented him. He hated his life and he hated Hanzo, because hating him was easier than facing up to the fact that he really was in love with him. 

When they did see each other, it was unbearable. Hanzo’s long black hair, his dark eyes, his smooth, flawless skin. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. Genji had no idea how Hanzo felt about him, and Hanzo rarely spoke to him anyway. When he did, he had a cold tone, and his words sent chills down Genji’s spine. Genji just continued to act out, desperate to do something, anything, to quell how  _ angry  _ he was all of the time. He shirked his responsibilities. He slept with girls he didn’t even like, just to illicit some kind of response from Hanzo, but he got nothing. 

When he was 19 and Hanzo was 22, their father had sat them both down and told them what would be happening. He’d found a woman for Hanzo to marry; the sister of a prominent clan leader in Tokyo. Genji had been furious. He’d stormed out and shut himself away in a training room, slashing his sword at the wooden dummies again and again and again. He snuck out; got drunk, got into a fight, and came home in the early hours of the morning, beaten and bruised. His bottom lip was swollen and he had a black eye. He snuck past the guards, even in his drunken state, and shut himself in his room, trying not to cry. 

_ Why?  _ He’d thought.  _ Why does it have to be him?  _ Genji had thought his brother didn’t give a single shit about him anymore, that he was tired of his immature antics. He feared that his brother was becoming far too much like their father, and soon, it would be too late for Hanzo. He’d be married, and Genji knew when that happened he’d probably have to run away. It was bad enough seeing Hanzo bark orders at men just like their father did. But seeing Hanzo with a wife… Genji knew it would be too much; he wouldn’t be able to stand it. 

With the rationality of soberness gone, his drunken mind had started making plans of its own. Should he go and see Hanzo? His room was just down the hall. They could talk, like they used to, back when they were young, and mouth off about how much their father annoyed them. It would be like things were ten years ago, before Genji had realised that he had an unquenchable desire for his brother. 

Before he realised he was in love with him.

Just as Genji had been about to stumble down the hallway to Hanzo’s room, Genji’s own door opened, just by the smallest amount. 

“Who’s there,” Genji had snapped, not patient enough to deal with anybody right now. He didn’t to be seen like this. 

“Me,” said a low voice, and Genji immediately felt his heart tighten. It was him.

“Are you going to let me in or not?”

“Yeah, shit, sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you-”

His breath stopped short when he saw Hanzo’s outline illuminated in the doorway. His hair was out of his usual ponytail. It cascaded down his shoulders, and a few loose strands fell over his face. Genji longed to tuck them back behind his ear. Hanzo was shirtless, wearing only a pair of trousers, and his tattoo was barely visible in the low light. 

“What’s gotten into you?” Hanzo asked, taking a step forward towards Genji, who stepped back instinctively, not wanting to get too close to his brother, in fear that he might lose control and do something he would regret. 

“What do you mean?” Genji asked sullenly, not meeting his brother’s eye. 

“You know full well what I mean,” Hanzo said, striding towards his brother until Genji was backed up against the wall. Genji longed for the tightness in his underwear to subside, in fear that Hanzo would notice.

Hanzo took Genji’s chin in his hand and pulled his face up. 

“You stink of alcohol.”

Genji turned away aggressively, secretly terrified that Hanzo might hear how loud his heart was beating. 

“What do you expect?”

“I don’t understand. What would I expect?”

Genji looked at him then, and Hanzo noticed for the first time that he was bleeding. 

“That I was drinking.”

“Why’s that?” Hanzo’s voice had become softer then, as if he were trying not to get his hopes up. 

“Because you’re getting married.”

“Surely I should be the one drinking, then.”

“Why would you need to be drinking? This is perfect for you.”

Hanzo laughed, but he sounded sad. “You really think that?”

“Why are you even here?” Genji asked, avoiding the question. 

Hanzo looked away for the first time. 

“Hanzo?”

“What?”

“Answer me.” Genji took a step forward, silently thanking the alcohol for giving him courage. 

Hanzo lifted his hand to Genji’s face again and wiped the blood from his lip. “You’ve been fighting again.”

Genji felt a shiver run down his spine. “So?”

“So, you’re going to hurt yourself, little sparrow.”

Hearing Hanzo call him Sparrow made Genji melt. “I don’t care.”

“I do.”

“I don’t understand,” Genji said. “What is going on here?”

“Come on, Genji. Don’t you dare play dumb with me.”

“I’m not playing dumb. I want you to tell me what’s going on.” 

“Don’t raise your voice, you’re going to wake someone up.”

“Then tell me why you’ve come in here.”

Hanzo took a step towards him and pulled Genji closer. There was no hesitation when he pulled his little brother in for a kiss, a kiss which for the both of them should have felt wrong. They were brothers, and Hanzo was now engaged to someone that wasn’t Genji. 

But neither of them stopped.

Hanzo pulled him closer, so that their naked chests were pressed together as the kiss deepened. Genji knew he should push him away, that the door was still slightly open and anyone could find them like this. But he didn’t; he couldn’t fight the urge to moan, and run his hands through Hanzo’s long, black hair. The thought of consequences melted away, as if reprecussions didn’t exist. He would have been relieved, if desire wasn’t overwhelming his entire body. Hanzo’s skin was finally under his fingers; he could touch him, feel him, and not just stare from the other side of the room. He didn’t have to repress anymore; he could feel as much as he wanted to. He could barely believe that it was real. 

Hanzo’s tongue traced Genji’s lips, eliciting another moan from the both of them. As the minutes passed by with neither of them pulling away, their hands strayed lower and lower, until neither of them could resist anymore. Hanzo pushed his brother down onto the bed and straddled him. He sat up straight, finally being able to admire the sight of his younger brother underneath him, sweating and moaning for more. It was enough to make him fully hard, and he could see that Genji was too. 

“How long?” Genji managed to say between pants. 

“Since we were younger,” Hanzo said. “But I didn’t think you felt the same.”

“Idiot.”

“Shut up.”

Genij laughed in disbelief and blinked. Hanzo got onto all fours above him, appreciating the sight below. 

“What are we going to d-” Genji started, but Hanzo cut him off with another kiss. 

They hadn’t slept that night; Hanzo used him again and again, until Genji was a total mess, unable to even speak properly. 

When Genji looks back on that night, he fights the urge to book a plane ticket straight to Japan and feel his brother’s embrace again. But he knows that is impossible. His brother should be married now, and besides; he should be dead. Even if he disguised himself, Genji feels as if returning to Hanamura would bring too much pain. He’s not ready yet.

A week after that night, Hanzo was sat down by his father and told the news. He was to kill Genji, for disrespecting the clan, and then he would be married, and that would be that. 

He wasn’t surprised when Hanzo told him. That was when he’d booked the plane ticket, used a fake ID, and fled to New York, leaving Hanamura and the clan behind. Leaving Hanzo behind. When he arrived in the States, he had no idea what to do or where to begin. He started work as a bartender in the club he now strips in. It paid like shit, but luckily his boss had somewhat of a crush on him, and he had ended up stripping almost every night. He doesn’t really have friends. He works so much that he barely has time to himself, and all of his colleagues are just as tired as he is. No clients of his ever see him as more than a piece of meat. 

The job pays enough for him to be able to live alone, which is a blessing. Genji can’t stand the idea of sharing an apartment with anyone, let alone on his schedule. Sometimes he doesn’t finish work until 9am, and he’ll stumble back through the flat door, drunk enough to forget his pain. Most mornings he won’t even make it into his bed, instead crashing out onto the couch and sleeping until his shift starts that night. 

Being busy is his salvation. Without time to sit down and think about how much he hates his situation he’s able to forget, a lot of the time; though Hanzo’s face is always in his mind, just below the surface. It’s like a form of torture. Sometimes Genji wishes that he had never spent that night with Hanzo, had never had a taste of his brother’s body. It might be easier, he thinks to himself, if he never knew what he was missing. After all, you can’t miss what you never had. The days and nights blur into each other. It’s as if he’s living in a dream. Sometimes, it feels like he never left Hanamura. Others, he feels like he was never there at all.

***

On what should have been a normal night in December, something out of the ordinary happens. Genji is walking down the streets of New York, hunched over, the tips of his ears bright red and burning in the cold air. The snow crunches under his feet, reminding him with every step he takes that he is freezing. Music blares through his headphones, old, traditional-Japanese-style music that he’d only come to appreciate once leaving his home country. He’s only a block or two away from the club when he notices that he’s being followed. A black car trails behind him at a snail’s pace, so slowly that it is as if the driver wants him to notice. Genji’s mind immediately begins considering the possibilities of who it might be. A client? Some shady drug dealer, eager to recruit? He has no idea, and starts walking faster. He pauses his music, but leaves his headphones in his ears, so he can hear if something happens. He pulls his hood over his bright green hair and keeps walking. He starts in ten minutes; he doesn’t have time for this shit. 

Nothing is out of the ordinary once he arrives at work. His boss greets him, and not-so-subtly flaunts her body at him as she instructs Genji on what he’ll be doing for the night. He pays her no mind; he’s not interested in her advances. She seems put out but doesn’t let him know that it bothers her. 

The night continues as it usually does. Genji lets his mind drift as he dances, everything but Hanzo melting away with the song. He dances as if Hanzo is the only one in the room, as if he wants nothing else but to impress his older brother, the man that he loves. 

_ What would he like? _

_ What can I do to impress him? _

_ How can I make him love me?  _

Genji knows that he’s no longer the scared boy who fled Hanamura. He’s not that furious teenager who ran off the rails, lashing out because he doesn’t understand his feelings. He’s a man; a man who understands his feelings all too well. That’s why they cause him so much pain. 

He doesn’t see the two Japanese men standing at the back of the club in suits. By this point, he’s forgotten all about the black car which had followed him on his way to work. He’s focused entirely on the pole in the centre of the stage. He lifts himself up, his hands wrapping around the cool metal, locking his ankles around the pole. Someone in the crowd wolf whistles, but Genji blanks it out. In his eyes, they all disappear. The lights dim in his head, and there’s no illumination in the room save a shining spotlight, which focuses on him. There’s only one other person in the room.  _ Him _ . 

Genji rolls his hips against the pole, his muscles clearly visible as they work hard to keep him off the ground. Genji flips so he’s upside down, his hair falling into his eyes, and looks directly at the audience, making them swoon and want him even more. 

Genji doesn’t notice as one of the men in suits steps outside to answer the phone. 

He’s in a trance, living only in his performance, taking note of nothing but the feeling of the metal against his naked skin. Blood rushes to his head as he flips himself around the pole, letting go with his arms and allowing himself to slide down by slightly loosening the grip he has with his legs. He loves pole dancing, and he’s good at it. The excercise gives him a release, and it’s fun, too. 

His agile body moves up and down the pole with ease, in perfect rhythm to the music blaring through the club speakers. When it comes to end, he’s snapped out of his daze, and his eyes focus on the mysterious man at the back of the room. 

His heart sinks. He knows that man.

The man’s name is Tanaka Sugawara. He’s one of his father’s Yakuza thugs and a man who isn’t afraid to kill if necessary. Genji remembers him doing so, more than once.

_ So, this is it,  _ he thinks.  _ I’m going to die tonight, huh?  _

He sneaks away to the back room quickly. He couldn’t imagine any other possibility other than that his father had found out that he wasn’t really dead, and he had sent someone else to finish the job.

He feels sick. Does this mean that Hanzo is in danger, too?

“Genji, what’s up with you-” his boss starts, but Genji interrupts her. 

“I have to go,” he says, pulling on a shirt and some trousers.

“Your shift isn’t over.”

“I’m sorry.” He’s pulling on his jacket, patting his pockets for money or his credit card. Nothing.  _ Fuck.  _

“What’s going on?” 

“I can’t say. But I most likely won’t be back.” 

“What the fuck, Genji? What are you talking about? You can’t just walk out on me, you’re my best-”

“I have to go, alright?” He says, his voice cracking a little. “It’s serious. I’m sorry.”

Before she could say a word, Genji was already running, his heart pounding as he exited the back door. 

It’s freezing outside but he doesn’t have the time to pay the cold any mind. He’s sprinting down the alleyway. It’s dimly lit, which he’s thankful for. There’s so sign of anyone but him. Once again he pulls his hood over his hair, not wanting the bright colour to give him away. 

“Genji!” His boss calls out at him, and then he hears her shriek. 

_ Fuck. They’re coming.  _

He tries to scale the nearest chain-link fence but he snags his coat and gets stuck. He scrambles up, leaving his coat behind. The adrenaline coursing through his veins protects him from the harshness of the weather and he continues, gripping the freezing metal with his fingertips and trying to pull himself over the top. Just as he is about to get over, a strong hand grips the hem of his shirt and he’s thrown to the ground. 

_ It’s over.  _

“Genji Shimada.”

“Just get it over with if you’re going to do it here,” he spits, as the man’s boot presses him into the ground. 

He says nothing, just takes out his phone and dials a number. It answers on the first ring. 

“Yeah, I’ve got him. Where are you?”

Genji doesn’t hear the other voice. 

“Okay. See you in ten.”

“What’s going on?” Genji asks, struggling to get up, but he’s winded, and his whole body hurts. 

“Come on,” the man says. Looking at his face again, Genji recognises him as Sugawara. He outstretches a hand to him. 

“What the fuck?” Genji says. 

“What is it?”

“Aren’t you here to kill me? Didn’t my father send you?”

Sugawara laughs. “No, Genji. I’m here on behalf of Hanzo.”

Genji’s stomach flips.  _ So he’s not hurt? _ He takes Sugawara’s hand, who pulls him up. “What do you mean you’re here on behalf of… him.”

“What are you deaf? Come on. And  _ no,  _ I’m not going to kill you.”

Genji wants to be sick. His mouth is dry and he’s shaking; he has no idea how to start processing what’s happening. Is it some kind of sick joke? Or could this really be real? 

Not knowing either way, Genji follows Sugawara into the car that had been following him before. It has tinted windows and leather seats. The driver is another man that Genji recognises from Hanamura, though he can’t place his name. 

“So does anyone want to explain to me what the fuck is going on?” Genji asks after an uncomfortably long silence. 

“Hanzo wants to tell you himself.”

“Wait,  _ what? _ ”

“We’re on our way to him now.”

_ Fuck.  _

Genji was ecstatic yet terrified. Glancing in the rear-view mirror, he smooths down his hair and wipes the sweat from his brow. He sits, panicking, not wanting to get his hopes up in case they were dashed. The car pulls up at an expensive-looking apartment block. They get out, and Sugawara once again dials a number on the phone. After a second, the door clicks open, and they’re walking inside. 

Genji’s heart is pounding. His shirt is ripped and he’s drenched in sweat.  _ If Hanzo is really here, what will he think?  _

They go up in the elevator to the top floor. There, standing at the end of the hall, holding his apartment door open, is Hanzo. WHen they see each other, Genji’s knees threaten to buckle from underneath him. 

“Hanzo,” he manages to say, somehow, and then he’s running forward, throwing himself straight into his brother’s arms. 

“Genji,” Hanzo says, resting his chin on the top of his little brother’s head. It has been years since they’ve embraced like this, just held one another. 

“What- what the fuck are you doing here?” Genji says, still in shock. He lets out a strange laugh, not knowing what else to do. His chest is burning. 

“I’m sorry,” Hanzo chokes out, obviously holding back tears. He takes his little brother by the shoulders, holds him at arm's length, and looks him in the eyes. “I’m sorry it took so long. I really am.”

“Idiot,” Genji says. “I didn’t think you would come at all. What are you - what are you even doing here? What about our father?”

Hanzo breaks eye contact then, and looks at the ground. “He’s dead,” he says simply. No trace of sadness lingers in his voice.

“ _ What?” _

“Look. Just come in, will you?”

“Y-yeah, sure.”

Sugawara nods to them and steps back into the elevator. Hanzo guides Genji inside and they sit down on a leather couch. Genji just stares at his brother for a moment, taking in how the past year has changed him. 

His hair is tied in a bun, as it usually was back when they were both in Hanamura. Now, though, he has an undercut, too. His skin is slightly paler, and his eyes look more tired. He looks stronger, too; Genji can tell immediately that his arms are more muscular. He’s wearing tight, Western-style clothing that doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Genji tries to stop his mind from running away with itself, but he fails. He wants to lean over and rip the clothes from his brother’s body, see what he looks like underneath. He imagines tracing his tattoo with his fingertips, pulling his hair out of its bun and letting it fall loose. He imagines Hanzo carrying him into the bedroom, picking him up with those strong arms and-

“Drink?” Hanzo’s voice snaps Genji out of his trance. 

“No, thanks,” Genji says, slightly out of breath. “Just… come here and explain everything to me, please.”

Hanzo sits opposite him and knocks back a glass of scotch without wincing. 

“Where shall I start?”

“From when I left.” Genji can’t believe that this is real. He almost expects to wake up and find out that he’s dreaming.

“Okay. Well. Our father wasn’t happy when he found out that you had gotten away. He blamed me, said that I’d warned you. That was fair; it was true, after all. But I played into what he wanted, which was his favour. He seemed to forgive me without much trouble; after all, I was his only heir at this point.”

“What about the wedding?” Genji choked, searching frantically for a ring on Hanzo’s left hand. Nothing. 

“You’re as impatient as you’ve always been, I see.” Hanzo’s smouldering gaze shut Genji up immediately. Gone was the apologetic Hanzo. He was back to the way he had always been. “I went along with it until the night before. This was, say, about a month ago. I… Well.”

“What?”

“Nobody knows this, but I hired somebody to kill our father.”

“You  _ what? _ ”

“Does that upset you?”

“Well… no, but… I never thought you would do something like that.”

“Naturally, the wedding was postponed,” Hanzo continues, not paying mind to what Genji had said. “Once it was ready to commence again, I called it off. As soon as the dust settled, I flew here.”

Genji breathes out a long, slow sigh of relief. “Thank god. So… what happens now?”

He’s overwhelmed with emotions; shock, relief… arousal. This is the first time he’s been alone with Hanzo, truly alone, safe from interruption, in years. Genji feels no grief for his father’s death; he hated the man, and after all, he’d tried to have Hanzo murder him in cold blood, not to mention the years of abuse he’d inflicted upon him beforehand.

Hanzo stands up and walks over to him. There’s a look of intense hunger in his eyes. He cups Genji’s face in his hands, just as he had done that night. Genji stands up.

“We can discuss that later,” Hanzo says softly, and kisses him on the mouth.

When their lips meet, Genji’s stomach melts, and he forgets all of the pain he’s in. His entire body is covered with goosebumps; Hanzo’s kiss is electrifying, mesmerising. His memories of that night hadn’t done his brother justice - nothing in Genji’s imagination comes close to how this feels. He wants to rip his clothes off, move straight to the bedroom, but Hanzo kisses him slowly, as if he’s trying savour the feeling so it will never end. 

Hanzo flicks his tongue against Genji’s bottom lip, eliciting a moan from him, and holds his face with both hands. Genji bucks his hips forward, pushing their bodies closer together. Hanzo growls and pushes his tongue more aggressively inside his brother’s mouth. Genji grips him tighter and moans again. He’s rock hard and he’s sure that Hanzo is too. He wants him more than anything - no, he  _ needs  _ him.

“You have no idea how much I’ve dreamed of this,” Hanzo mutters as he begins trailing soft kisses down Genji’s neck. 

“I think I do,” he sighs, letting his brother do whatever he wants.

It doesn’t take long before Hanzo pushes Genji down onto the couch. He crawls on top of him and presses their bodies together. Their faces are both flushed and they are breathing heavily, neither really able to control themselves. 

Hanzo sneaks his hand under Genji’s torn shirt and feels his naked skin. 

“A stripper, hm?” He mutters, moving lower down to kiss his brother’s stomach, getting closer and closer to the waistband of his trousers.

“Jealous?” Genji teases.

Hanzo smirks and undoes the button, looking him straight in the eyes. 

“That shut you up.”

Genji says nothing in retaliation - he just arches his back and moans, bucking his hips forward impatiently, wanting more. Hanzo runs his tongue along the waistband of Genji’s underwear, teasing him mercilessly. The younger brother lets out a whine and begs. 

“Please, anija, I can’t take it.”

“Fuck, I love hearing you call me that.”

Hanzo picks Genji up, carries him to the bedroom, and places him down on the bed.

“Finally,” Genji mutters, and he reaches up and kisses Hanzo again, before Hanzo pulls away and takes off his own shirt, revealing to Genji the rewards of those countless hours at the archery range. Genji pulls off his shirt too, and his stomach flips at Hanzo’s sharp intake of breath as he does so. 

His brother’s face is bright red and he’s panting. Gone is the cool, calm and collected Hanzo he’s always known. There’s a sheen of sweat on his brow; his hair is falling into his face and he begins to crawl along the bed and on top of him. Genji lets out a wanting moan and Hanzo groans, too impatient to take anything slowly now. He yanks off Genji’s underwear, letting out a sigh of admiration at the sight of his brother’s hard cock. 

Genji doesn’t know what to say or do. He has spent the past year wondering what it would be like to sleep with with his brother again, and now it’s happening. He goes to undo the button of Hanzo’s trousers but Hanzo slaps his hand away, smirking. 

“Not yet,” he says. “I want to loosen you up first.”

Genji flushes and agrees. 

“Spread your legs for me.”

He does as he’s told, revealing his dripping hole to Hanzo, who stares at it greedily, his mind running away with him. He teases it with his forefinger, relishing Genji’s pleads and moans for more. There’s hardly any resistance once he slides it in, and Hanzo feels his cock twitch at the feeling of Genji’s tightness around his finger. 

“Anija,” Genji moans. “Oh, fuck.  _ Fuck,” _

His moans are music to Hanzo’s ears. They don’t have to be quiet. The first time they had fucked, it was hushed and hasty, neither of them wanting to be caught - now, however, Hanzo can make his brother scream. 

“You want more, little brother?” He says, curling his finger so that it brushes against his prostate.

Genji lets out a moan of pleasure. “Yes, oh god, yes.”

“Then beg for it.”

“Hanzo, please, please,” he whines, “I  _ need  _ it, I’m begging you-”

His own gasp interrupts him as Hanzo pushes in another finger without warning, stretching his hole. 

“That hurt?”

“A little,” Genji breathes. 

Hanzo leans over him to whisper in his ear. “Imagine how my cock is gonna feel, then.”

“ _ Fuck, _ ” he squirms. “Hanzo, please.”

Hanzo curls his fingers, cherishing the look on his little brother’s face. His expression is of ecstasy, his eyes squeezed shut, cheeks flushed pink, mouth twisted into something resembling both a grimace and a smile. 

“You look so fucking hot,” Hanzo groans, impatient now, and he hastily pulls off his clothes. 

Genji groans at the feeling of emptiness that came with the absence of Hanzo’s fingers inside of him and he spreads his legs wider, eager for more. His cock leaks onto his stomach, leaving a small pool of cum. 

Now naked, Hanzo crawls closer to his brother, and lowers his head to lick up the cum, causing Genji to feel as if his body was on fire. Hanzo kisses all around his length, never touching it, knowing that he’s driving the man crazy with his mouth. 

“ _ Anija, _ ” the younger brother’s groan fills the room. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for me?” Hanzo says, a note of concern in his voice. He wants Genji to enjoy himself, to feel as good as he would. 

“Yes,” he breathes in return, and flips onto his front, bearing himself to his brother. 

Hanzo uses a bottle of lube from his bedside table to coat his cock. When he enters, Genji lets out a deep moan. His brother’s cock is thick inside of him, and it’s stretching him to his limits. It’s almost more pain than pleasure. Almost. Hanzo starts out slowly, aware that going too quickly would hurt Genji; it’s hard to restrain himself, though, and he bites his lip, fighting the urge to thrust in to the hilt. He wants to lose control, fuck Genji’s ass until every drop of his cum is inside of him, but he can’t. He grips tightly onto Genji’s ass as he slowly pulls his brother further down onto his cock, leaving nail marks in the soft flesh. 

As Genji becomes more accustomed to the feeling of Hanzo around him, he begins rocking back and forth, pushing himself further and further onto his cock. He longs to hold his cock in his hand and release the overwhelming pressure building up inside of him, but he knows that Hanzo will bring him to a higher ecstacy. 

“Ah!” He moans as Hanzo’s cock finally presses against his prostate, sending bolts of electricity through him. 

Hanzo too feels a fire burning in his gut, a roaring blaze which Genji had ignited. He wants to cum so badly that it’s almost painful; the throbbing of his dick inside Genji’s ass is almost too much to bear, and he increases the pace. He can feel his orgasm building up -  _ too soon  _ \- and he flips Genji onto his back, lifts his legs up and rests them on his shoulders, so that he can thrust in even deeper. 

Genji screams when he pushes in; once again, the line blurring between  _ just right  _ and  _ too much _ , but he relishes in being able to be as loud as he wants. The new angle allows Hanzo’s cock to press right against the most sensitive part of him. Their faces are tantalisingly close. Hanzo’s long black hair is falling down, the strands gently touching Genji’s face. 

“Kiss me,” Genji pants, his legs pressed against his chest, and he grabs Hanzo’s face and pulls him closer. Their lips meet and the intense pleasure brings Hanzo to begin thrusting even harder, pounding into Genji’s ass with a force he didn’t know he had. Their tongues meet and begin to intertwine passionately as the knot in Genji’s gut begins to unravel. He’s getting closer and closer to orgasm, the burning pleasure getting even stronger. Hanzo can’t believe that Genji is about to cum without his cock even being touched, but that thought quickly leaves his mind as his own climax approaches. 

Genji’s moans become consistent, in time with the rhythm with Hanzo’s thrusts, and soon he can feel his orgasm overflowing. He cums, the intense pleasure spreading throughout his entire body. A defeated groan escapes his lips, and the clenching of his ass around his big brother’s cock causes Hanzo to lose control. He cums inside his ass, trying to remain conscious through the overwhelming sensation. 

When there’s nothing left to give, Hanzo somehow rolls over and lies next to Genji. The both of them lay there, panting heavily in the darkness, sheens of sweat on their brows, their chests rising and falling in sync. 

“We should probably clean up,” Genji says after a moment of silence, sitting up. Hanzo grabs his shoulder before he can get out of bed, though, and he pulls him back down. 

“Stay a little longer,” he mutters, and Genji relents, resting his head on Hanzo’s shoulder. 

There’s nothing uncomfortable between them; it feels perfectly natural, as if this was the way they were born to be. As they fall asleep, both of them, finally, are happy. 

* * * * 

It’s gone midday when they wake up, tangled in the sheets. Sunlight streams through a gap in the curtains, making them squint as they sit up and rub their eyes. Finally, what’s happened has dawned on them, and they spent the early afternoon lying in bed in each other’s arms, marvelling in the bliss that is their reunion. Hanzo calls for room service and Genji admires his naked body as he gets out of bed, not able to look away from his defined muscles. 

Neither of them talk about the past as they eat. There is simply a comfortable silence between them, one that’s not been there for years. It’s as if a giant weight has been lifted off Genji’s shoulders, and he just feels… happy. It’s been so long since he’s been able to say that.

They shower together; there is enough room for two people, and besides, after the night before, they both need it. 

“You asked me last night, so it’s only fair that I do, too. When did you realise… how you feel?” Hanzo asks as he begins to shampoo Genji’s hair.

Genji closes his eyes and enjoys the feeling of Hanzo lathering the shampoo into his hair. “I- well, about three years ago.”

“So that’s why you went off the rails. I thought so.”

“Shut up, Hanzo,” he says, embarrassed by his actions. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Genji looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was the one who initiated, so I pretty much did.”

“Only when you got engaged.”

“Oh, should I not have?” Hanzo says seductively, taking a step closer. 

“I didn’t say that,” Genji smiles, stepping up on his tiptoes to kiss his brother. 

Hanzo smiles back and holds his brother in his arms as they stand under the hot water, listening to each other’s heartbeats.

* * * * 

Later that evening, they’re sitting on the couch, both of them drinking. The lights are dim in the apartment, and through the large windows the New York City skyline shines. The TV is on, but neither of them are watching it; they’re sat, talking. Hanzo is wearing western-style clothes which show off his muscles and his broad, defined, shoulders.

“So. Stripping,” he says, casting a pointed look at his brother.

Genji’s face is flushed, half from embarrassment, half from the alcohol.

“What are you blushing for? It was hot. You’re good at it.”

“Wait,  _ what?  _ You saw me? _ ” _

“Yeah,” he says nonchalantly. 

“How?”

“I had some of my men film you.”

“You what?”

“You really get into it, don’t you?”

Geni pauses. “It was all for you. Everyone I danced for… I imagined that it was you.”

“You imagined me?”

“It was the only way I could do it.”

A small smile crosses Hanzo’s lips. “I was thinking of you the whole time, too.”

Genji smiles back and hugs his brother. He can feel his heartbeat. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too.”

“So… you’re the clan leader, now?” Genji asks, pulling away and sitting back down opposite him.

“I am,” Hanzo replies.

Genji thinks about what he should say. 

“Are you okay with that?”

The elder Shimada brother pauses and thinks for a second. “I never really thought about it in terms of if I was okay or not.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I never really saw an alternative for myself.”

“Well, you’re the leader. You can just pass off responsibility to someone else and go.”

“You know I can’t just do that. It’s not how it works.”

“Why not?”

“Just… come back with me,” Hanzo says. “I don’t want to go back alone.”

Genji stares at him. “Go... back?”

A ball of anxiety wells up inside of him at the thought of going back to that place. Back there? After everything? He doesn’t know how to feel.

“Yeah. Back home.”

“That’s not home to me.”

“What do you mean it’s not home? It’s  _ Hanamura;  _ it’s the only home we’ve ever known, Genji.”

A moment passes in silence. 

“Are you saying you won’t go with me?”

“Why do you have to go?”

“That’s not even a question. Of course I have to go back.”

“Why?”

“ _ Why?”  _ Hanzo splutters. “Because I’m the head of the clan!”

“Oh, yeah, and you have  _ so  _ much respect for the clan after killing its former leader-”

“I was doing what I had to do to bring you back home to me. You think it was easy? That I wasn’t putting my life on the line?”

“I’m not saying that it was easy-”

“And yet you’re asking me to abandon the future I’ve spent my entire life preparing for!” Hanzo shouts, his face red with anger.

“Fuck you,” Genji seethes. They’re both stood up now. “It was fine for you. Our father actually loved you, he didn’t try to arrange to have you killed, he didn’t-”

“You think he loved me! Really? I was just a puppet to him!”

“Exactly! And you still want to go back there!”

“And you just want to stay living here, living in some shithole, selling your body in some seedy club?”

“ _ Fuck  _ you,” Genji spat. His hands are shaking and his vision is blurry. “I  _ never  _ sold my body.”

“Bullshit. I know you’ve been home with men. You don’t give a shit, just like when you were younger, you’ll fuck anything that walks-”

Genji throws a punch at him which Hanzo catches in his hand. 

“I did  _ not _ sell myself. You have no idea what it’s like outside Hanamura. No fucking idea.”

“I know,” Hanzo says, his face cracking a little. He lets go of Genji’s fist and steps back. “I know.”

Genji lets his arm fall and doesn’t try to attack him again. He sees the defeated look on his face, the sadness and pain in his dark eyes. 

“I don’t know if I can go back there, Hanzo,” Genji says, beaten now. He sits down on the couch and holds his head in his hands. “The memories… it’s too much.”

Tears sting at his eyes and he blinks them back. He doesn’t want to be seen crying. 

“I won’t let anybody hurt you,” Hanzo says, sitting down beside him. He puts his hand on Genji’s shoulder and squeezes it lightly. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m… I’m sorry too.”

“I just - Hanamura is the only place I know. You got to sneak out, talk to girls and guys, be  _ young. _ I never got that. I was the older brother, the heir, the responsible one. I don’t know how to live outside of the clan.” Hanzo takes a deep breath, his voice quivering.

“I never thought about it like that. But it wasn’t easy for me either. I wasn’t having fun out there, all those times.”

“You weren’t?”

“God, no. Of course not. I was just trying to… fill this feeling of emptiness inside of me, and then when I realised that I loved you… it was too much to bear. I didn’t get to see you, and even when I did, I felt like you were judging me for lashing out. And we both know how our father treated me. Like you said earlier, I went off the rails when I realised my feelings for you. It was this huge battle I was having with myself, and it felt like I was going mad because I couldn’t have the only thing I wanted.”

Genji leans his head on Hanzo’s shoulder and wipes away the stray tears. Hanzo doesn’t say anything, he just waits for Genji to carry on speaking.

“Hanamura…” he continues, taking ina  shaky breath. “It holds so many bad memories for me. There was so much pain, so much suffering. Even though life is hard here too, and I have to strip almost every night to afford rent, and I don’t really have friends… New York is  _ different.  _ It’s somewhere new. Somewhere where nobody gives a shit about my past, where their opinion of me isn’t based on my social class or who my father is. I can just… be. And I want you to share that with me.”

Hanzo runs his fingers through Genji’s green hair and sighs. 

“I had no idea you felt that way. I’m sorry. I… I was so  _ jealous.  _ It consumed me. I was jealous of all those people that slept with you, because they had what I wanted so badly, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.”

“I never realised that.”

“Of course I was jealous. I loved you for the longest time. And I just wanted to kiss you and also punch you, slap you out of your misbehaviour because I knew what our father was going to make me do if you didn’t stop.”

“I guess things were shitty for us both, huh?”

“Yeah, I’d say.”

They sit in silence for a little while, listening to the busy streets of New York. 

“I can change everything. I can make it different; we can renovate, get people in. It won’t even look like Hanamura.”

“Hanzo…”

“We’ll lead together. We can get married, hire new men, whatever you want. Just come back with me. It’s our home.”

“No it’s not.”

“What is home to you, then? Your apartment here? What?”

“It doesn’t matter. I can make a home anywhere as long as it’s with you.”

“So come ba-”

“But I just… I can’t return there.”

Hanzo doesn’t say anything.

“Would you go back without me?” Genji asks, looking Hanzo in the eyes. 

“It’s my duty to serve the Shimada clan.”

“You’re not answering my question. Would you leave here and go back to Hanamura without me?”

Again, Hanzo is quiet. 

“After everything you did to reunite us? You would throw all of that away because of some bullshit ‘duty’?”

“I don’t want that.”

“Then what do you want?”

“You know what I want.”

Genji groans. Would it be different, without his father there? Could he cope within those walls, if Hanzo was by his side?

“You can try. Just for a little while. If it’s too much I won’t stop you from leaving.”

Genji thinks back to how he has most certainly lost his job after the previous night’s drama. If he could leave at any time… would it be worth a shot? For a whole life by Hanzo’s side, maybe anything was worth trying. 

“Okay,” he relents. Hanzo beams and kisses him right on the mouth. It’s the first time Genji has seen him smile like that in years. “But no promises.”

“Deal.”

They kiss again, deeper this time, and Genji groans. There’s so much emotion behind this kiss, so much need, so much history. Adrenaline from their fight mixed with the alcohol has turned him on, and he longs for Hanzo inside of him again. His anxiety, his anger; they’ve melted away, and he feels guilty for saying the things he had. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, breaking the kiss.

“Me too.” 

“Anija?”

“What is it?”

“I really do love you.”

Hanzo smiles. “I love you too.”

Their foreheads touch and they both close their eyes. Genji kisses him slowly, their lips barely touching. Hanzo tastes like alcohol and his scent reminds Genji of that night over a year ago. They continue, not taking note of how long has passed. It might have been seconds or hours. When their bodies press together and they both realise how hard they are, they break apart, breathing deeply. Hanzo takes Genji’s hand in his own, squeezing it a little. His are larger and rougher than Genji’s soft, more feminine hands. He leads him to the bedroom. The sheets are a mess; neither of them had bothered to make the bed, and Hanzo clears them away while Genji watches, entranced by his brother even while he’s performing the most menial of tasks. 

Genji feels the urge to perform. When Hanzo is done laying fresh sheets onto the bed, Genji lays him down, resting his head on the pillows. His big brother looks at him with a skeptical expression, but says nothing. Genji grins and kisses him once before retreating to the foot of the bed. He dims the light to its lowest setting, pulls out his phone, and presses play on a random song from one of his playlists.

Hanzo laughs, but even in the low light of the bedroom Genji can see his blush. 

“So I’m finally being treated to a show,” he says, the happiness evident in his voice.

Genji smiles seductively and undoes the top button of his shirt, swaying his hips to the beat of the song. The look in his eyes changes; he’s a hunter and Hanzo is his prey. He slowly undoes each of the buttons, never breaking eye contact. Hanzo is sweating, he’s enthralled and he can’t take his eyes away. Seeing Genji strip on camera was one thing, but in person it’s almost too much to bear. 

Genji drops the shirt to the ground and crawls onto the bed. He runs his hands down his chest, undoes his belt, and tosses it aside. He’s kneeling over Hanzo, who reaches out to touch his bare skin. 

“No touching,” Genji grins, slapping his hand away. Hanzo whines uncharacteristically, but obliges. 

He teases him, undoing the button of his jeans but not the zip. He gets up and dances, losing himself in the rhythm of the song, and then he gets tantalisingly close to Hanzo, but never giving him the touch he desires so much. 

Hanzo moans out loud when Genji takes both his jeans and underwear off at once, revealing how hard his cock is. He wants to touch himself but he knows that his little brother would deny him that pleasure. He can feel cum leaking out of him; it’s almost painful to do nothing about it. It’s frustrating but he knows that the satisfaction will be worth it. 

As the song draws to a close and the next one begins to play, Genji once again crawls along the bed. This song is slower, less high-energy than the last. He sits on top of Hanzo, undoing his trousers and pulling them down. His cock strains against his underwear; the sight of it leaves Genji breathless, and he kisses it through the fabric, making Hanzo groan with desire. 

“Fuck, Genji, please,” he moans.

Genji smiles and does what his big brother wants; he pulls off his underwear. He licks the base of Hanzo’s cock, relishing in the sounds he makes, and slowly moves up to the head, which is slick with precum. Hanzo bucks his hips and grunts, as if subconsciously trying to push himself into Genji’s mouth. Genji takes the head of Hanzo’s cock into his mouth while swirling his tongue around the tip, tasting his precum. Moving his head up and down he begins taking more and more into his mouth until his mouth meets the base of his brother’s dick, and he’s almost gagging on it. He licks and sucks as he begins to stroke his own cock, too turned on by his brother’s poorly-stifled moans to resist, while he holds himself up with his other arm. It’s an instant relief to finally pleasure himself; he’s been focusing on Hanzo for so long and denying his own needs.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Genji, fuck,” Hanzo says between breaths. “Slow down a little, I don’t want to cum yet - ahh!”

Genji only increases the pace, rejoicing in the knowledge of how worked up Hanzo is. His cock twitches and Genji knows he’s going to release soon, so he slows down. But suddenly, Hanzo is lifting him up with his strong arms. He throws Genji down onto the bed, and kneels over him, gripping him between his legs so that he can’t escape. Genji can’t took away from his brother’s dark, intense eyes. Hanzo pulls off his t-shirt and throws it aside, and Genji marvels at his body yet again. His jeans are just below his hips and he doesn’t take them off; instead, he flips Genji onto his front and pulls his ass into the air, causing him to gasp with shock. 

Just like the previous night Hanzo grabs a small bottle of lube and rubs some of it onto his cock. This time, though, he doesn’t bother inserting his fingers and instead pushes in with no warning. Genji screams into the pillows as Hanzo thrusts in to the hilt. His breathing is slightly restricted due to the pillows pressing into his face, but this only turns him on more. Genji grips his cock almost too tightly and begins pumping, trying to release the overwhelming tension coursing throughout his whole body. Hanzo, hearing the pleasure in his brother’s moans, increases the pace. He’s close to climax far too soon, but he can’t stop himself, can’t slow down - the feeling of Genji around him is too good. He’s so tight. 

He throws his head back as he orgasms, moaning Genji’s name as he releases inside of him. The pleasure courses through his whole body, and his skin erupts in goosebumps. Genji whimpers and continues to bring himself closer to his climax; Hanzo pulls out and before Genji can whine at this loss, he replaces his cock with three of his fingers. 

“Anija…”

The moans fill the room - in his post-orgasm haze, Hanzo almost feels as if he’s drowing in them. He pumps his fingers in and out as Genji gets closer and closer. He’s tight, and it’s so hot inside, and so wet. It’s a feeling that Hanzo will never forget, and never be able to repicate with anyone else but his little brother. He continues to pump his fingers in and out of Genji’s ass until he gives a final moan of delight and his cum is spilling all over the fresh bedding Hanzo had put on earlier. 

They both collapse with exhaustion, panting, chests heaving. The room spins for them both, and it takes a long time before they can even form a coherent thought.. 

“In hindsight I should have probably changed the sheets afterwards,” Hanzo chuckles when they have both calmed down. His face still feels hot, and his forehead is a little sweaty. 

Genji lets out a weak laugh. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

They turn to each other, and their eyes meet. It’s a moment of pure peace and calmness, one where the both of them know that they are truly happy. 

“I’m so glad we got to meet again,” Genji whispers, his voice hushed. 

“Me too,” Hanzo replies. 

Their foreheads touch again, and they stay that way for a few minutes before Hanzo pulls back. They get up, change the sheets for a second time and go through their nighttime routines, feeling like a real couple. They wear pyjamas and brush their teeth, smiling at their relections standing side by side in the mirror. It’s strange to the both of them that this might be their usual routine from now on. Genji knows it’s something he could get used to. 

Hanzo holds his little brother in his arms when they finally get into bed. He wraps himself around him, feeling his soft skin. He wishes that they can stay this way together, the two of them and nobody else, laying together in the darkness peacefully, without worries or duty or responsibilities. He wishes for a world where they can be together with no taboo, no clan, no traumatic childhood. But, Hanzo thinks, they’re at least together, and that’s more than he ever expected would happen. They fall asleep quickly,

***

The week before their flight back to Japan flies by. The two of them tentatively live a normal life; they eat dinner at restaurants, stay up late watching flims, go sightseeing. They act as if their lives are normal, like they aren’t the heirs to a powerful Yakuza family - they relish in the feeling of being ordinary, of acting like any other couple. Part of Genji feels as if he’s in a daze. He can’t comprehend that this wonderful thing has happened, that Hanzo is back in his life and that they have a shot at being together. A small voice in the back of his mind whispers about the hardships that returning to Hanamura will face, but he stays optimistic, knowing that he’ll be able to leave if it’s too much, and that he may be able to convince Hanzo to join him if that’s the case. 

Before he knows it they’re at the airport. It’s a sunny but cold day, and people move quickly, wasting no time.

“I like New Yorkers,” Hanzo says, as they make their way to the check in desk. He’s trying to make idle conversation, to ease Genji’s (and, admittedly, his) nerves. 

“Oh yeah? Why?”

“Nobody cares who you are.” He shrugs. “You know?”

“That’s why I like them, too. Do you have the tickets?”

“Yeah, I’ve got them.”

“Great.”

The atmosphere is a little tense, but neither of them feel awkward about it. They both understand why it’s a bit uncomfortable, and accept it. 

Despite everything, Genji is a little excited to return to Japan. New York is a blend of cultures, and he’s experienced so much that he never would have otherwise. Japan, though, is his homeland. He’s missed the food, the music, the architecture. Maybe things will be okay, he thinks, as Hanzo takes his hand and they drop off their luggage. Even if things do go wrong, he’s grateful for having this time with Hanzo. 

As they board the plane, neither of them know what to expect. It’s a strange feeling, to be going home, but they look forward to seeing what the future holds. As the plane takes off, they share a smile, and don’t look back. 


End file.
